Shore Leave
by JennaTripped
Summary: Trip takes T'Pol home on shore leave. Story assumes the events of Zero Hour were resolved in some mysterious unnamed way. TT fluffiness.
1. Part 1

Title: Shore Leave

Author: JennaTripped

Archive: Trip/T'Polers has permission, as does this place. All others, please ask first.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Summary: Trip brings T'Pol home while on leave. T'Pol gets licked by a dog with a strange name.

Rating: G

A/N: This story was originally written midway through season 2 when I was no longer even watching Enterprise. It's been heavily rewritten to reflect recent events. If you guys find any glaring inconsistencies, let me know.

* * *

The couple emerged from the taxi that had transported them from the bustling airport to the tiny town. The street was quiet. Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker III frowned. While he hadn't expected – or wanted – a big to-do over his return, he was surprised his parents weren't waiting for him.  
"Did you not specify a time for your arrival?"  
The woman beside the human hero removed the hat she had become accustomed to wearing since reaching Earth, revealing a brunette head and a pair of delicately pointed ears. SubCommander T'Pol had discovered that while she alone might not be considered a source of media attention, her choice of companion had sparked civilian interest. She and Commander Tucker had been hounded mercilessly by over-eager paparazzi from the moment they had stepped off the shuttle and onto terra firma. They were not alone. The rest of the crew had received similar treatment. Captain Archer had ensconced himself within the StarFleet command center and showed no signs of leaving any time soon. It was unpleasant, but as much as she had craved peace over the past two weeks, the unnatural stillness of the pretty house and street disturbed her. Perhaps it would have been wiser to spend her leave at the Vulcan embassy if her presence was enough to drive her... friend's... parents away.  
"Yeah, I told 'em we were comin'. Mom said she'd have a pie waiting for me."  
As Trip lifted their luggage off the ground, T'Pol's sensitive ears detected a rustling in the nearby shrubbery. A strong odor quickly followed, and before she had time to react two large, hairy, quadrupeds leapt from the bush and landed squarely on Trip, knocking him to the ground.  
T'Pol reacted, recovering from her shock, and reached to push them off the Commander, who was rolling on the ground covering his face. Her heart raced... until she realized Commander Tucker was – laughing? T'Pol took stock of the situation a second time. The dogs were not biting Trip as she had originally suspected. They were vigorously licking the hands shielding his face, their tails moving back and forth in a crazed rhythm.  
Her fear faded to amusement tinged with disgust. They really were very smelly, much more so than Captain Archer's sanitized beagle.  
"Easy guys! Get off, now!" Trip managed to stop laughing long enough to stand, only to break into another fit when he saw T'Pol's expression. He reached out a hand in apology. "Sorry T'Pol. They're just happy to see me."  
T'Pol eyed his hand warily, noting the canine saliva. "I see."  
Deprived of their favorite target, the dogs turned to T'Pol and began sniffing around her feet. "Please ask them to refrain from this activity." She took a step backward, and raised her eyebrow at the animals when they pursued her.  
Trip smiled brilliantly at her, watching her nose wrinkle as the dogs sniffed her clothing. He wished he could do that sometimes, just walk up to her and inhale the scent that was entirely hers. She was so beautiful. He couldn't believe she'd wanted to spend her leave with him.  
"Commander?"  
Trip belatedly noticed his dog had started licking T'Pol's hand. She was looking at him, pleading with her eyes, a distressed expression gracing her features. She would never admit it, but he'd been able to read her subtle facial expressions for months now.  
"Bedford! Come 'ere!" The larger of the two animals pranced eagerly to Trip's side while the other raced up the path to the house.  
"Bedford?" T'Pol took a moment to compose herself, breathing in the warm, dog-free air.  
"Yep. Bedford Tucker IV. The original Bedford died when I was 11. This is his great-grandson."  
"What breed is he?"  
"Ya know, I'm not sure. Part lab, part giant? I used to ride around on his great-grandpa's back when I was little."  
"What is the other dog's name?"  
"Uh..." Trip nervously rubbed the back of his neck and avoided her eyes. "Ya know, I'm not sure what they named him...."  
While T'Pol digested this, Trip dragged the subject of their discussion over to a hose lying on the lawn. He wanted T'Pol to be comfortable here, and she wouldn't be if his dogs smelled like they'd been chasing a skunk. Bedford thought the spray of the hose fun for a moment, before Trip caught him in the side. The dog shook vigorously, raining dirty droplets of water on his perturbed master.  
"Damn dog." Trip muttered and grabbed their stuff. Now T'Pol wouldn't come within ten feet of him 'til he showered. He sighed. He could never win. Trip picked up their stuff and the pair paused on the porch, T'Pol keeping a safe distance from her chagrined companion. "T'Pol, push that little button please. I can't believe they're not home!"  
T'Pol pressed the doorbell and heard answering chimes play inside the house. She also thought she heard the patter of feet on hardwood floors, but when she looked at Trip, he was as confused as before.  
"Try the knob."

* * *

Charles Tucker II crouched behind the living room sofa next to his wife. His back wasn't up to these charades anymore, but the family had insisted that Trip be given a surprise party. Personally, he'd wanted to walk up to his boy, pull him into a hug, and convince him to stay on Earth from now on. He'd seen Trip on the news and had been humbled by the haunted – if triumphant – look in his child's eyes. Charlie doubted Trip would appreciate any more suspense after chasing the Xindi all over the galaxy, especially since he'd brought the Vulcan gal – T'Pol – home with him.  
Vulcans didn't like surprises. Heck, they didn't "like" anything.  
But Charlie looked over at his wife. Susan was about to explode with happiness. It was the first real smile he'd seen on her face since Lizzie...  
Charlie felt his eyes sting and forced the grief away. There had been time, and would be more time, to mourn his baby girl. Now it was time to be happy with Trip.

* * *

In the same room, plastered against the window seat, Trip's cousin Michelle grabbed her son Nicholas before he made any more noise running around and ruined the surprise. From her vantage point under the window she had watched her handsome cousin and his mysterious friend exit the taxi and try to make it to the house. Bedford and Soval were such pests. Michelle frowned as the woman refused Trip's outstretched hand, but Trip seemed to take it in stride. Nicholas chose that moment to wiggle free and dashed across the room as the pair approached the door. His grand-uncle Charlie nabbed him and clamped a hand over his mouth, making the little boy giggle harder. His blonde head disappeared behind the sofa as the doorbell rang. Michelle glanced outside again, trying to get a closer look at Trip's lady friend. She stifled a gasp. It was then she saw the ears.

* * *

"It is open."  
"Well, then, go on in."  
T'Pol arched a brow and was rewarded with a gentle smile as she cautiously entered the house. Now she was sure she heard something – no, someone – breathing heavily.  
"I believe..."  
"SURPRISE!!"  
T'Pol suddenly found herself surrounded by humans. It was extremely overwhelming, since everyone seemed to be shouting and talking at once. Unconsciously she edged closer to Trip and took in the stunned expression on his face.  
Trip dropped the bags on the floor and embraced his father, who'd been the first to reach him through the throng of people hiding out in the living room and kitchen. He felt tears stinging his eyes and hurriedly wiped them away as he dimly heard his dad welcoming him home. There was his mom and dad, his brother, his uncles, aunts, neighbors, friends, his cousins... it seemed like everyone he'd ever met and cared for was crammed into his home. His attention was fractured between the dozens of people he hadn't seen in over a year, which was the excuse he gave himself to slip his left hand into T'Pol's right and interlock their fingers when she pressed up against his side. With that taken care of, he felt like a million bucks and happily put up with the kisses and bear hugs of the rest of his family. He wiped the tears away from his mom's eyes and gave her an extra-long hug.  
"It's okay. I'm back. I'm fine. Don't worry."  
She nodded and retreated to the kitchen to allow the rest of the people a chance to greet her son.  
T'Pol watched as a woman with long hair the same color as Commander Tucker's walked forward and, in direct contrast to the robust greetings of the rest of his family, gently wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed.  
"Hello, Michelle..."  
T'Pol felt a pang of envy, and emotion she had had some experience with since meeting and becoming... acquainted... with Commander Tucker. The feel of his hand within hers combined with the next words out of the woman's mouth erased the feelings.  
"Hey yerself, Dog Breath. You smell horrible. Don't they let ya shower on that fancy ship?"  
"Hey! I'll have you know I shower at least twice a day! Kinda mandatory..." He looked at T'Pol and winked. "Besides, it's only once I got back to this old rock that I started ta stink again."  
"Well, you know Sov..."  
Trip tensed and almost imperceptibly shook his head at his pretty cousin, letting his eyes shift quickly towards T'Pol and back again. Michelle got it.  
"Em, so! Are you going ta introduce us?" The woman's gaze fixed on T'Pol, and blue eyes met brown and held.  
T'Pol froze. It had been months since her Trellium-D addiction, and while she still felt emotion more strongly than before, she was better at categorizing it and dealing with it. She would define this emotion as dread, fear, or apprehension. Commander Tucker squeezed her hand, reminding her that she had allowed such intimate contact, but he would not let her pull away. She pulled her "Vulcan mask" on quickly. The room was very quiet.  
"Yep. Family, friends, everybody. This is Subcommander T'Pol. She served as the Enterprise's science officer. Believe it or not, she got tired of those dignified old guys at the embassy and decided this might be a little more fun. We worked together real close up there, and she's one of the best friends I have."  
T'Pol looked at him, confused and grateful. His eyes were smiling at her, and she instantly felt more at ease. Her expression softened imperceptibly to everyone except Trip, and he was suddenly very glad he'd said what he said. That look was worth everything.

* * *

Michelle observed the couple as Uncle Charlie herded everyone into the backyard to eat. They hung back behind the crowd, talking quietly. They were no longer holding hands, and once again the Vulcan was staying a respectable distance from her cousin. Michelle vaguely remembered that Vulcan females had a heightened sense of smell, and if SHE had thought Trip reeked, it had to be worse for the Subcommander. She saw Trip smile in that strange, gentle way again, and instead of walking outside, he detoured and headed up the stairs.  
She looked into the yard to check on Nicki and saw him happily perched atop his father, David's, shoulders. He was really getting too big for that... Michelle noticed the Vulcan woman waiting at the back door leading to the yard and made a split-second decision.  
"Where's Trip?"  
"Commander Tucker expressed a wish to shower." She paused. "You are his cousin, Michelle?"  
"Yep, that's me." A vaguely uncomfortable silence began to stretch between them. "So, what was it like working with Trip?"  
"It was... trying. Space travel is frequently stressful, and our encounters were no exception. However, Commander Tucker is a brilliant engineer and a kind man. I was pleased to have the opportunity to know him."  
Michelle was a more than a little shocked. She'd never heard a Vulcan talk like that. She had taken Trip's words about T'Pol being his best friend with a grain of salt, but now she wondered if he hadn't been just being nice. She certainly seemed to like him. Her words sounded affectionate even. Michelle began to re-evaluate what she knew of Vulcans.  
"Well, while he's showerin', you can come outside. Aunt Sue's made some great chicken salad, if you'd like to try some."  
"I will have to apologize to Trip's mother. I do not consume animal products."  
"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't know that! We can whip up somethin' vegetarian. I'll tell Aunt Sue..."  
"There's no need, Michelle." Trip father walked up behind the two women and smiled warmly. "Susan and I know Vulcans don't eat meat."  
T'Pol met the forthright gaze of the older man. It appeared that Trip's parents had known she would be arriving with him and had not informed the rest of the family. She could not help but wonder why they had chosen to keep the information to themselves. She did not understand this need to have Commander Tucker's family accept her, but she was losing faith that it would happen.  
"Indeed, Mr. Tucker. I am pleased to have been invited to this gathering anyway. I know it means a great deal to Trip."  
Charles blinked. He'd been a little cool with T'Pol, but hadn't let his reservations about her move to rudeness. Susan had prepared several salads and even vegetarian lasagna.  
"I know it does, Subcommander."  
"You may call me T'Pol, Mr. Tucker."  
"Well, then you may call me Charles." Charlie watched as the Vulcan's face lightened, and gave her a slow wink.  
T'Pol was momentarily disoriented by how like Trip the wink made his father look. She said so on impulse.  
"Well, I'll take that as a compliment. Hard to resist the Tucker charm."  
"Indeed." T'Pol found herself charmed by this man. She had quickly realized that her perception of him had been incorrect. He was merely being cautious, as she had been.  
"Susan made great veggie lasagna. It's got spinach, mushrooms, black olives, and a really great spaghetti sauce. You'll enjoy it, and you must be hungry."  
"Thank you... Charles. Commander Tucker and I have no eaten since this morning."  
"Well then, I'll show you to the buffet." He held out his arm and T'Pol took it, not wanting to appear rude. "May I ask you a question, T'Pol?"  
"Of course." He steered her towards a long table on the lawn, where the family had lined up to serve themselves.  
"You're on shore leave... why do you call my son Commander?"  
"It is a... habit, Charles. He has refused to allow me to call him Charles, and I am not entirely comfortable using his nickname."  
"Why not?"  
"Vulcans do not have nicknames. It is not logical to call a being anything other than it's given name."  
"I see. Ya know, I think Trip would really like it if ya'd call him that. That's what we all call him, and I know he thinks of you as family."  
"You are mistaken, Charles. Trip and I are good friends and associates, nothing more."  
"I think you might be the one who's mistaken, but if you're sure..."  
"I am. However, I will make an effort to call him Trip, if you believe it means as much to him as you say."  
"That's good, T'Pol. Now, how about this lasagna?"

* * *

Trip stepped out of the shower and grabbed the towel hanging from the bar. He brought it up to his face and rubbed the droplets of water off his skin. The towel smelled so achingly familiar. Like the soap his mom used to wash the clothes, and like sunshine. He rubbed it through his hair a few times and then wrapped it around his waist. He hadn't been home long enough to take a shower in years, but the motions of doing so brought back a flood of memories of this house.   
He opened the door and after a quick check down the hallway, exited the bathroom and walked to his room. The whole family was still outside. He knew T'Pol was probably uncomfortable, but he also knew his family would make an effort with her until he came down. Trip unzipped his duffle bag and frowned as he perused the contents. His family didn't care what he was wearing, and T'Pol had seen him every day for the last three years so she wouldn't care either. But, inexplicably, he wanted her to see him with his family, looking nice. He upended the duffle onto his bed and walked over to the closet. He pulled out a pair of tan-colored slacks and his favorite dress shirt. Lizzie used to make him wear it all the time. She'd said it complimented his eyes. Trip figured it couldn't hurt.  
He spent an unnecessary amount of time shaving and fixing his hair before finally dressing and descending the stairs. Before walking out onto the patio, he paused in front of the mirror in the main hallway and poked at a strand of hair that hung down his forehead. He buttoned the top button on his shirt. Then, he unbuttoned it. He unbuttoned the next one, revealing a few strands of chest hair. This is ridiculous. He left the top button undone and went outside.

* * *

T'Pol paused after a bite of the surprisingly adequate lasagna and looked across the lawn at the patio. He looked... beautiful.  
T'Pol was not accustomed to seeing Trip in anything other than his blue StarFleet jumpsuit. He'd worn a dress uniform to the reception at StarFleet headquarters, but it hadn't fit him nearly as well as the fitted slacks and shirt that was stretched across his shoulders.  
She licked her lips and swallowed. He saw her and started forward.  
Michelle, who had been talking with T'Pol when her attention suddenly shifted, wasn't sure what to think about this. But, it really wasn't her business. She'd just never seen Trip look at a woman like this before. She'd certainly never seen a Vulcan look back. Maybe she really was completely ignorant, or maybe T'Pol was just a special member of her species.  
"Excuse me, T'Pol. I'm gonna go check on my son. Trip's on his way though."  
"Thank you, Michelle. I enjoyed your company."  
"Oh, you're welcome. You haven't seen the last of me. Have fun at the party!"  
T'Pol nodded absently, a human gesture she had picked up after several years on Enterprise. Her eyes never wavered from Trip as he made his way towards the table she was sitting at. He climbed over the bench to the picnic table and sat down across from her, a light breeze playing gently with his hair. This environment was almost too idyllic for T'Pol. She was used to finding the hidden menace in scenes such as this. It was a rare occasion when she could truly relax, but she felt herself doing so as Trip's blue eyes locked with hers.  
"Good lasagna?"  
"Yes. I will thank your mother when she has the time. You have a large family."  
"Yep." He smiled at her. "I haven't seen some of these people in years."  
"You should go mingle. I am sure they are eager to hear of your adventures."  
Trip lazily bent an elbow on the table rested his head on his arm, all the while watching T'Pol. "There will be time for all of that. I'd rather stay here with you. If anyone comes over, we can both tell 'em about our adventures."  
Trip tried to keep his breathing even. All of his focus was on the woman sitting across from him. She looks so perfect here... He barely noticed the activity of the people around him. They had faded into the comforting background of home. Trip slipped his feet out of the sandals he'd pulled on when he couldn't find his nice shoes. The grass tickled his toes. He slowly slid a foot under the table and rested it on top of T'Pol's.  
She didn't react, so he didn't move.  
He wasn't sure how long they sat like that, just watching each other and playing footsie.

* * *

The end. There may be more in the future. After all, she still doesn't know the damn dog's name, but I'll bet you guys found it. ;-) 


	2. Part 2

By: JennaTripped

Rating: G

Disclaimer: They're not mine... sigh Paramount gets all the luck, even if they don't realize how great a thing they really have here...

Archive: Trip/T'Polers... all others please ask!

Summary: It's shore leave! This chapter has no substance. Sorry guys, but I figured it's been such a dry month in terms of T/T fic that I'd put this little crumb out there before we all starved to death.

A/N: So, now that I've been spoiled up through episode 6 of season 4, I've tweaked a few things. There is ONE mild Spoiler for season 4 in here about human xenophobia, but it's so minor...

* * *

Trip leaned back in the plastic green lawnchair and sighed contentedly. It was about 11 o'clock. He was facing away from the house, where lights blazed as his family prepared for bed. The only light he had was coming from the stars. The solitude was a little comforting after such a long day. He stared at them for a moment, absently outlining the usual constellations. A small red dot crossed in front of him, the space station continuing its orbit around the Earth. On the full moon, he could see the darkened patch that was the Lunar 1 colony. Trip chuckled. It made the man in the moon look like he had a giant zit on his face.

Trip couldn't remember being this relaxed or this happy in a very long time.

He turned his head slightly as the shuffle of bare feet across grass reached his ears. His mother sat down beside him and brushed his hair away from his forehead.

"What are you looking for?"

"Nothin' in particular. Just thinking."

They sat quietly for a moment, both absorbing the cooling night air. Susan Tucker watched her son as his eyes fluttered shut and he took a deep breath. She absently wondered what the air on Enterprise smelled like. Probably not as good as this. She felt the hot sting of tears prickle behind her eyes for what seemed like the millionth time that day. There was no reason for her to be upset, not really. She had her baby boy back, and that was all that should matter.

But it wasn't. She wanted him to stay. Space was dangerous, and she had already lost one child to humanity's urge to explore. It had been strange facing people after Elizabeth's death. They were angry at her because she had a child on Enterprise, the ship that had brought the Xindi to Earth. Many blamed Trip and the other StarFleet officers for all those horrible deaths. But at the same time, they never said anything because they knew she also had a child who had died in the attack. Fitting penance, probably.

"Did you have a good time today?"

Trip opened his eyes and smiled. "Yep. It was a great party mom. Thanks."

Susan felt happiness bloom inside. She'd wanted this to be perfect for him. "I hope T'Pol enjoyed it as well."

Trip shifted in the chair and shrugged, but Susan didn't miss the way his eyes lit up, or the way they slid quickly towards the eastern-most room on the second floor.

"Yeah, yeah I think she did." Susan waited for him to continue, but Trip remained silent. She felt a little bubble of panic well up inside her at that look. He couldn't be interested in T'Pol _that_ way, could he? She was a Vulcan. She didn't feel love. Trip deserved love...

He'd mentioned T'Pol in his letters, but she'd simply thought he'd come to respect her as a scientist. He hadn't said anything about a personal relationship.

"How is it working with her?"

Trip looked at her warily. "What do you mean?"

"Well, she's a Vulcan..."

Trip smiled and settled back into the chair. "Yep. She is. She's brilliant. Smartest woman I've ever met. And she's got a great sense of humor." He laughed when his mom raised an eyebrow at him. "Yeah! That's it! She does that all the time. It's funny 'cause she's so predictable like that." Trip grinned, warming up to his favorite topic. "Plus, she helps me sleep. There's this practice Vulcans have – neuropressure – I don't know why we haven't picked it up yet. It puts any massage you've ever had to shame!" Trip shook his head with an amused smile and looked back at the stars, his thoughts wandering back a few months ago on Enterprise.

Susan felt the niggling panic begin to grow. She let out a short breath through her nose. Trip looked happy enough, but why he had to be smiling over a Vulcan woman and not some nice human girl, she couldn't figure out. She'd have to talk to him about it, but now wasn't a good time. She stood and kissed him on the forehead.

"Don't stay out too late."

"I won't. Night Mom."

Trip listened as his mother's footsteps retreated into the house and slowly sat up. He looked up at T'Pol's window. She was probably meditating. He grabbed his sandals off the grass and made his way back into the house. He was exhausted, but in a pleasant, euphoric way. He could still feel T'Pol's gaze from earlier at the picnic table. It wasn't the worst thing in the world to go to sleep thinking about.

* * *

T'Pol took a pillow from the bed and settled herself on the floor. Three candles were placed strategically around her. She contemplated the second one. The day had been long and tiring, but she found Commander Tucker's family to be very pleasant, for the most part. She knew that several of them were not happy with her presence at their reunion. While Enterprise had been away fighting the Xindi, the panic-stricken people of Earth had reverted to some xenophobic tendencies. The Tuckers were not an exception, but all of them had been unfailingly polite.

She liked his parents, especially Mr. Tucker. T'Pol found herself wondering if that was what Trip would look like 30 years from now. She found the physical resemblance between members of his family remarkable. Humans displayed a much wider range of hair, skin, and eye color than Vulcans, and she had not expected the genes for blue eyes and blonde hair to be as uniformly distributed in the Tucker clan as they were.

T'Pol turned her attention back to the meditation candle. She had much to think over today. The most pressing matter was how she had allowed three hours of her to day pass by sitting at a picnic table with Commander Tucker's toes tickling the bottoms of her feet. T'Pol took a deep breath and allowed her emotions to rise to the surface of her consciousness. She was faintly embarrassed, but more surprised than anything. There was also the matter of the dog. They had named their animal after the Vulcan ambassador to Earth. T'Pol knew she would have to have a discussion with Trip about this at some point. He could not possibly believe he would be able to keep this "secret" from her for the full two weeks of their visit. She breathed slowly out through her mouth and closed her eyes, allowing the peace of the moment to soothe her.

* * *

T'Pol opened her eyes, momentarily disoriented by the large room and vaulted ceiling she found herself in. She heard the sound of a dog barking, followed by the happy shouts of a human child. She blinked and looked at the clock next to the bed. 0800 hours. She had slept in.

After showering and dressing in simple civilian attire, T'Pol stepped into the hallway and turned to go down the stairs. She paused, glancing behind her at the door at the end of the hall. On impulse, she turned around and quietly moved to the door. Her sensitive hearing detected slow, rhythmic breathing coming from within. Commander Tucker – _Trip_ – was still sleeping. She remembered a comment his father had made yesterday about Trip sleeping "like the dead". She had not contradicted Charles, but was well aware that Trip did not always find sleep so effortless. Still, T'Pol found that she was unsure of what to do now. Logically, she should go downstairs and locate some tea. However, she was illogically apprehensive.

Quietly and methodically, she opened the door and stepped into the shadowed room. She gingerly sat down on the edge of the bed and watched the gentle rise and fall of Trip's chest. A sheet was tangled haphazardly around his waist and legs, and his arms were thrown out at odd angles, taking full advantage of the extra space. T'Pol sat quietly, content to watch him. Trip's subconscious, however, sensed another presence in the room. His eyes opened and locked on hers.

"Hello."

T'Pol felt her chest tighten. His voice was rough from sleep, his hair sticking out on end, and he was watching her with the same expression he had worn at the picnic yesterday.

"Good morning," she replied.

Trip straightened the sheet and sat up slowly, rubbing a hand over his face and sighing.

"How long have you been here?"

"Several minutes."

Trip grinned and scooted over on the bed, letting T'Pol find a more comfortable spot.

"Watching me sleep?"

"Yes."

Trip mulled over that for a moment. A simple yes. Months ago, even a few weeks ago, she would have found a logical excuse to be in his room and offered it up immediately. This was different.

"Are you excited about today?" Trip watched her, fascinated. Something weird was going on, and he was more than content to let it happen. "We're gonna go..." He trailed off when she lifted her hand and extended her fingers towards his face. Trip held perfectly still, not even daring to breathe, as T'Pol brushed a lock of hair back and smoothed it down. "... diving today."

"Yes, I remember. You will recall, however, that I do not know how to swim."

"We'll find some shallows." She tilted her head, throwing her profile into the light coming in between the blinds. His heart sighed a little. "Are you hungry?"

"I would like some tea, if you have it."

"Sure thing. Lemme just get dressed and I'll join you downstairs, okay?"

"Of course."

T'Pol absently smoothed the covers of his bed with her hand while listening to Trip rummage through his closet. She heard a muffled swear and resisted the temptation to turn around and see what he was doing.

"M'kay, you can look now."

T'Pol stood and turned around, running an appraising eye over the still-sleepy Trip. She idly noted that his taste in clothing yesterday had obviously been a fluke. He was wearing another vividly patterned shirt. Ensign Sato had called them "loud." T'Pol would have chosen another adjective, but she did not wish to hurt her friend's feelings. She recognized that this sensitivity to the whimsical nature of human emotion was new. She would not have hesitated to be blunt a few months ago.

The bright red and orange garment was lazily tucked into a pair of light denim jeans, which actually fit him well. She blinked when he offered her a lopsided grin.

"Commander, if you will allow me... I believe that were Ensign Sato here now, she would refuse to be seen with you in public."

"What? Hoshi loves my shirts..." Trip gave her a playfully wounded look and watched with interest as she opened his closet again.

"No, Hoshi is an exceptionally sensitive and intuitive woman. That does not mean she likes your shirts. Here. You seem to have trouble coordinating colors."

She handed him another shirt from the closet. Trip kept his eyes on her as he reluctantly unbuttoned the bright monstrosity and exchanged it for the more subtle colors of the t-shirt she'd found in the back. T'Pol rationalized that her actions were logical. It did not matter if Trip was aesthetically pleasing, but she realized that he was frequently picked on for his choice in civilian clothes, and she did not wish to draw more attention to them on their outing than could be avoided.

"It won't matter ya know, T'Pol. We're not gonna be swimming in our clothes. I've got wetsuits on the boat. I even found one that might fit you." He grinned cheekily and pulled the t-shirt over his head. "There, happy?"

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, alright." He laughed. "Let's find some breakfast."

* * *

Review please! 


	3. Part 3

By: JennaTripped

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Gah... if these two were mine, T'Pol wouldn't be getting married in two days! I guess I own Michelle and the dog version of Soval though. :-D

Summary: Swimming lessons... not as dirty as I'd planned. LOL.

A/N: No spoilers guys! Yay!

* * *

T'Pol quickly changed out of her robes and into the tight-fitting material of the "wetsuit". It was very similar to her uniform on board Enterprise. She had become proficient in donning the uniforms out of necessity, and had no trouble zipping into the wetsuit without help. It fit her surprisingly well, and T'Pol briefly wondered who the previous owner had been. Barefoot, she walked out onto the deck of the small seacraft. The motion of the boat on the water disturbed her profoundly. She had experienced nausea when she first boarded, but Trip had located a hypospray in his emergency medical kit and since it had been administered she felt markedly better. Her sense of unease remained but she did not expect it to fade; Vulcans were not meant for water.

Sunlight glinted brightly off the metal railing and T'Pol's eyes followed it to rest on her companions. Trip and Charles stood at the stern preparing equipment, while Michelle was below-deck trying to locate a spare oxygen tank. One of the dogs lounged lazily in the sun on the deck. T'Pol felt out of her element and did not enjoy the sensation. She was anxious about being made to swim in waters infested with animals large enough to cause her serious injury. One of Trip's more inventive movie night choices had been a film called "Jaws" in which a large aquatic carnivore had attacked a human population. If she remembered correctly, these creatures were attracted by the scent of blood. She wondered if Vulcan science officers were on its menu.

Consciously she released her fierce grip on the railing and approached Trip and his father, skirting the massive canine who did not seem prepared to get out of her way. These flights of imagination were not productive.

"May I help with something?"

Trip spun around, snorkel in hand, and grinned. "Hey T'Pol." He looked her up and down, his eyes lingering in certain places. "Good. It fits." He set the snorkel on top of a pile of equipment.

T'Pol noticed the mess had been separated into four piles. She patiently waited for him to answer her question. Instead, he turned to Charles.

"Dad, can you and Michelle finish this up?"

"Sure son. I'll let you know when we're ready to go." Charles gave Trip and T'Pol an appraising glance before his gray head disappeared below the main deck. "Michelle? You down here?"

T'Pol looked at Trip. Trip looked at T'Pol. T'Pol quirked an eyebrow. Trip laughed.

"Come on. Let's get you a swimming lesson."

With some coaxing and several reassuring smiles, Trip managed to get T'Pol to enter the water without too much protest. It was shallow enough that she could stand on her toes and keep her chin above water, but she seemed more comfortable clinging to the side of the boat and gently kicking her feet behind her.

"You okay?"

"I am fine, Co- Trip."

"Then why don't you let go of the boat?"

"I cannot swim."

"I know. I'm going to teach you. But you'll have to trust me first." Trip tread water gently and watched her as a myriad of emotions flickered across her face. She carefully replied.

"It is not a matter of trust. I trust you. It is a simple fact that I cannot swim, and letting go of the boat would be unwise given that information. Vulcans have a greater muscle density than humans. I will sink."

The last line was said with such conviction that Trip had to smile.

"You can touch the bottom here T'Pol. And I would never let you drown."

T'Pol studied him for several moments, a disgruntled look on her face. Trip stopped treading water and stood, his greater height allowing the tops of his shoulders to skim the surface of the water. T'Pol gingerly reached out a hand and clasped his arm, transferring her death grip on the boat to Trip's shoulders. He grabbed her other hand and pulled her away from the boat, humbled that she trusted him enough to let him hold her.

T'Pol tensed as Trip continued to move backwards, away from the boat. "Are you sure this is wise? If something was to happen, we should remain close to the safety of the craft..."

Trip turned his head so their faces were mere inches from one another. "What do you think is going to happen, T'Pol?" He asked quietly, pausing his movement and reveling in the feeling of her arms wound around his shoulders.

She swallowed and met his expectant gaze. They stared at each other for a long moment, and Trip felt his heart begin to pound erratically. All of his senses were heightened, and he wondered in a flash if he could... he bent his head slightly towards her and skimmed his lips across her cheek. "Where was the film "Jaws" taped?

Trip blinked in surprise and then let out a loud bark of laughter. "You think there are sharks?" At her censuring look, he quieted. "T'Pol, there _are_ sharks around here, but trust me, they aren't after us."

"How do you know this?"

"Because I've lived here all mah life, and dived here for nearly as long, and I have never seen a shark approach a diver unless the diver was lookin' for the shark."

"And we are not looking for sharks."

He shook his head and smiled. The tension eased from her body and Trip suddenly remembered that they were pressed hip to hip, chest to chest. He resisted the reflex to swallow, and cleared his throat instead. She looked at him and the corners of her mouth turned up almost imperceptibly. Trip's heart nearly stopped, and he knew this moment would be seared into his memory for the rest of his life. T'Pol had _smiled_. She had smiled at _him_.

"What is the first step in learning to swim?"

Trip shook his head lightly, realizing his gaze had lingered on her mouth. "Ah, I'll teach ya how to float. Just lean your head back and I'll hold you up over the water."

T'Pol gave him a doubtful look but dutifully leaned her head back into the water, wetting her hair and submerging her ears. She was tense. All she could feel was Trip's cool hands under her back; they were the only things keeping her afloat. After a moment, she realized Trip had been speaking and lifted her head out of the water.

"I could not hear you."

"Oops, sorry. I figured you'd still be able to with those ears an' all. Just lean back and look at the sky. It'll help if you spread out your arms and legs."

"You will not let go?"

"Nope. Not 'til you're ready."

Satisfied, she leaned back once more, this time focusing on the clouds overhead. They were large and white and decidedly alien. Although she had spent a great deal of time on Earth, the distinct blue of the sky often reminded her of how far from home she was. The water around her head muted out every sound but that of her heart beating rhythmically. She closed her eyes and relaxed. This was very like the state she sought during meditation. Gradually, T'Pol lost track of her surroundings and the hands holding her gently. When she opened her eyes again and turned her head, she found Trip standing several feet from her with his arms crossed and a foolishly endearing grin on his face. Startled, T'Pol leaned forward and lost the delicate balance she had achieved.

Trip was at her side in an instant and prevented her head from being submersed as she struggled to stay afloat. She grabbed onto him and gripped his shoulders tightly, the sudden fright having been enough to render her speechless.

"Hey, you're fine. You were doing really well! See? I told you you'd be able to swim."

T'Pol swallowed several times and pinned him with a severe glare. "You promised you would not let go."

"Until you were ready... you were. You were floating by yourself for almost five minutes. You only got into trouble when you got scared."

T'Pol opened her mouth once, but decided it was not worth denying the accusation. She _had_ been startled. But it was entirely Trip's fault. She gave him another stare for good measure, but her desire to learn the art of swimming and her hidden pleasure over having floated on her first try helped her forgive him quickly.

"What is next?"

"Well, um... you seemed a little uncomfortable with going under water." Trip brought up the subject carefully. "Since you can stand here, we might as well get you used to holding your breath." He let her go a little, until her toes hit the sand and she steadied herself with her arms. Trip took a breath and dipped under the water, slowly and deliberately releasing the air in a cascade of bubbles through his nose. T'Pol watched him carefully, marveling at the ease with which he moved in the water and scolding her illogical fear of drowning.

He surfaced and gently reached for her hand. "We'll do it together, okay?"

She locked eyes with him. T'Pol nodded quickly and took a deep breath just before the pressure Trip applied to her hand tugged her under.

They did this several more times until T'Pol had nearly gotten the hang of it. Trip allowed himself an internal pat on the back, even though he knew her success was due more to her amazing fearlessness and the ease with which she learned new things rather than his tutoring skills. The next time they went under, Trip released her hand and maneuvered himself to the sea bottom. He'd felt a shell under his feet before. His hands shifted through the sand until they found it. Trip looked at it for a moment before a dark shape in front of him surprised him enough that he released the rest of his oxygen and surfaced.

T'Pol was under water! He cracked a grin as she followed his lead and surfaced.

"Hey! You were swimming!"

"No. I was simply suspended in the water. It occurred to me the water creates a similar environment to that of zero gravity. Now that I am proficient at holding and releasing my breath in it, it is simply a matter of time before I deduce the easiest way of maneuvering in it." T'Pol realized she was rambling and reached out to touch him.

Trip nodded, amused by her stream of consciousness, as she attached herself to his shoulders again. He held his right hand in front of her, fingers closed and waited until she had turned his fist over before uncurling his fingers and letting her see the shell. T'Pol lifted the delicate prize and turned it over and over again in her hand, feeling the inner smoothness and soft pink color as well as the rough edges of the outside.

"This is you, T'Pol." She met his eyes, confused, as he smiled at her in that same strange way he had... "A little rough around the edges, but beautiful and precious on the inside."

T'Pol blinked at him and felt her eyes flutter shut as he kissed her softly on the lips. She did not think the day could possibly be any more perfect.

Trip sighed against her lips, marveling that even his prickly Vulcan wasn't immune to human compliments...

* * *

Charles Tucker II found his niece below-deck, half buried under boxes and knickknacks from the closet she'd been rummaging in.

"Uncle Charlie, I know we have another O2 tank here somewhere. Trip must have hidden it!"

Charles laughed deeply and opened a panel along the wall, revealing three miniature O2 tanks in a tidy little row.

"Oh. Oops." Michelle smiled. "Where's is Trip, by the way?"

"He took T'Pol swimming. I guess they don't have much opportunity for that on Vulcan."

"I would guess not. Vulcan doesn't have any oceans, and their lakes aren't really suitable for swimming."

"Since when are you an expert, Missy?"

Charles sat down next to his niece with only a minimal protest from his back.

"Oh, I read some things..."

"Things?"

She sighed. "Well, last night I started poking around in our library. I mean, Trip seems pretty into this woman, and I just... I just figured it might be nice if I made the effort, you know?"

Charles patted his youngest niece on the leg. "That was nice of you, Michelle. I don't think it's really sunk in with the rest of the family yet. An' Trip's mom is gonna be difficult..."

"You think so?" Michelle stared thoughtfully at her uncle. She knew he and her aunt Susan had had a rough time since Lizzie died. People weren't sure how to act around them, and even for her it got exasperating to have to always defend Trip. Whenever people made the connection between her family and Commander Trip Tucker, they seemed to look at her a little differently. A little more warily. That's why she was trying to change things for T'Pol. It wasn't fair. The prejudice wasn't fair.

Charles smiled at her sadly. "We'll get through it. Family sticks together. You're a good girl Michelle. I'm proud of you, and I know your daddy would have been too."

"Thanks Uncle Charlie."

"Now, let's get this show on the road!"

* * *

TBC... hopefully it won't take so long next time. This has officially veered into AU I guess. Stupid T'Bastard Koss.


	4. Part 4

Title: Shore Leave part 4

Author: JennaTripped

Rating: PG

Summary: Oh just read it!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

* * *

Trip and T'Pol had spent most of the day diving with his father and cousin. It had been chaotic, beautiful, peaceful, thrilling, difficult, and relaxing all at once. It would have overwhelmed T'Pol if Trip had not been there to focus her attention. After both he and T'Pol had changed out of their wetsuits – him into a pair of swimming trunks and her into a light t shit and loose pants – they'd decided to take a walk along the shore. Now they lay quietly side-by-side in the hot sand with the warm sun and cooler breeze brushing over them. Both had their eyes closed, T'Pol's in meditation and Trip's in a light doze.

Trip kicked his foot out irritably when Soval's wet tongue tickled his toes. The dog had followed them, prancing along in the spray from the waves and was now making a nuisance of himself. _Nothing new there_, Trip thought with a grin at the double meaning. He slowly sat up, blinking at the bright glare from the water. Soval looked at him and whined, his tail wagging insanely. Trip reached over T'Pol's relaxed form and grabbed a large, sandy stick. He threw it hard into the water and slumped back down next to T'Pol while the animal raced into the waves. He lay back down and closed his eyes, listening to the soft crush of the waves on the sand.

T'Pol was brought out of her light meditation by the sensation of something sticky in her right hand. She opened her eyes and regarded the offending animal. The canine lay beside her with his large ears perked up, licking her fingers determinedly. T'Pol moved her hand out of the dog's reach and turned her head to look at Trip. He appeared to be asleep, if she could judge by the soft rise and fall of his chest and his relaxed expression.

The dog began to whine. He wanted something, but she had little experience with dogs. Porthos's needs had been cared for by Captain Archer and occasionally Phlox. The dog made a soft woofing sound and began gnawing on a dirty piece of wood. Concerned that he would injure his teeth or gums, she gingerly removed it from his grasp and tossed it down the beach carelessly. The dog took off and caught the stick in midair before bounding back to T'Pol and dropping the saliva-covered thing into her still-open palm. She blinked and resisted a wince of disgust but gamely threw the stick again. After about twenty minutes of this activity the dog had exhausted himself and trotted back to T'Pol, only to collapse in the sand. Assuming he intended to rest, T'Pol adjusted her posture and focused on the waves. She was not in great need of meditation, much to her surprise, but it would pass the time until Trip awoke.

Trip was proud of himself for resisting the urge to laugh. He'd cracked his eyelids just enough to watch T'Pol play with the dog. Her expression had been comical to him, even though she'd done a decent job of maintaining her dignity in the face of the dirty, smelly, and badly-named dog. He watched as she settled back into her meditation and he decided it wouldn't be too bad of him to continue feigning sleep. He stifled a yawn. It would be good to rest his eyes anyway.

* * *

Trip lounged in his living room, lazily sipping a beer while watching water polo on the big screen. He'd never loved water polo, not like the Cap'n did, but he'd developed an appreciation for the stamina required of the players. As the game drew to a close, a noise in the kitchen drew his attention away. He stood up carefully and set the empty beer bottle on the coffee table. Silently, his socked feet padded into the kitchen.

"Mom?" Trip peered into the homey space, noting the childish drawings taped to the refrigerator. _Funny_, Trip thought. His parents had taken those down years ago. A flash of blonde hair in the corner of his eye prompted him to dash across the kitchen.

"Lizzie?" He felt a warm hand slide into his and looked gratefully at T'Pol. "Ah, you'll help me find her again, right?"

"Of course, Trip."

Together they moved from room to room, both periodically calling Lizzie's name. They reached her bedroom.

"Mom an' Dad turned it into a study when Lizzie went to college." He smiled at the frilly pink bed canopy and scattered stuffed animals.

"Trip, I do not believe your sister is here."

"No, this is our house. She's supposed to be here."

"This is not the way your house is now. You have to let go."

"No!" Trip tightened his hold on her hand and pulled her into a crushing embrace. He felt, rather than saw, her smile in the warmth of her gaze. "I can't let you go. Will you stay with me?"

Her expression darkened and she looked at their joined fingers. "I will if I am able."

With that, the scene shifted. The house filled with people. Hands pulled at his clothing. His mother, father, brother, sister, and the rest of his family were grabbing at him. Captain Archer stood by his mother with a stern expression on his face.

"Let go Commander. That's an order."

"No!"

He turned to T'Pol. She was looking behind her where Ambassador Soval stood wearing a look of disapproval. An older woman bearing a striking resemblance to T'Pol stood beside him, staring at her with a hard but compassionate expression. Several younger Vulcans stood behind them, speaking in hushed, alien, tones.

Trip felt the pressure on his hand begin to ease and he pulled T'Pol tighter to his chest.

"Don't let go..."

* * *

Trip awoke with a start, breathing hard and still panicking slightly. He looked around, barely registering the beach and sun, until his eyes rested on T'Pol's meditating form. With a low groan of relief he pulled her into his arms and snuggled his face into her neck. As he breathed in her sweet scent – honey and rusted pennies – Trip's heart rate slowed and he realized he'd been dreaming. He moved to release her, but to his surprise she returned his hug.

"Sorry T'Pol. Bad dream."

Trip shivered a little in the warm breeze, and both of them cuddled closer to each other.

"Perhaps we should have neuropressure tonight, if your sleeplessness is returning."

"That would be great T'Pol." He paused and looked at her, not wanting to disturb the moment. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Trip. What is wrong?"

"I don't know how to ask this, an' it's probably gonna come out wrong."

She waited patiently and squeezed his hand in silent reassurance.

"What do I... I mean, what am I, to you?" Trip looked at her earnestly, his heart weighed down with fear that she'd reject him. But he couldn't stand not knowing anymore. He was pursuing her, courting her. He'd brought her home so his family could meet her. He needed to know what she wanted. He was afraid she thought of their relationship as one big experiment; that fear had, until now, stopped him from asking.

"I have great affection for you, Trip."

T'Pol took a breath. She was not used to verbally proclaiming emotion, much less trying to convince a human that her emotions existed at all. It was counter-intuitive, but by now she had learned that compromise was necessary. And she wished to ease her th'y'la's mind. Her gaze wandered to their hands, which had linked together of their own volition, and then met his eyes again. She noted that his face had lightened considerably, but there was still anxiety clouding it. She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his, her fingers gently caressing his bare chest. T'Pol moved her lips to the shell of his ear.

"I will stay with you," she whispered, and Trip smiled.

* * *

Trip brought the knife down against the carrot and whistled under his breath. He and his mother were getting dinner ready. T'Pol was showering, and his dad was out on the porch tinkering with a portable power generator he'd been repairing. Michelle had gone home after the long day, anxious to see her husband and son, and Trip felt at ease. He could tell something was bothering his mother though. She was distracted, and he noticed the sideways glances she was shooting at him.

"Hey Mom, will you pass me another carrot?" She did so silently and Trip popped the first new slice into his mouth with an impish grin.

He knew something was wrong for sure when she didn't yell at him for not waiting until the whole meal was ready. He waited for her to speak her mind.

"Trip, baby, is something going on with you and T'Pol?"

Trip snuck another bite of carrot. He'd had a feeling this was coming. "Like what, Mom?"

"Somethin' besides just being friendly."

Trip finished slicing the carrot and set the knife down. He leaned against the counter and waited for his mother to look at him.

"Yeah, Mom, there is." He watched her carefully and saw concern etch her features. "Why, does that bother you?"

"Well, a little bit yes. I want you to be happy, Trip, I really do." She sighed and squeezed her son's shoulders. "I want you to find a woman who will make you happy, and a Vulcan can't do that."

"But, Mom... T'Pol does make me happy. I've never been this happy in my whole life!"

"For now, maybe. But how long can you go without hearing her tell you she loves you? You won't be able to have children, Trip."

Trip grinned and hugged his mother. He couldn't help the memory of Lorian that sprang to mind: pointy ears and blue eyes.

"I know you're worried. But T'Pol tells me she loves me in her own way. She might never actually say the words, but I know. And don't worry about the kid stuff. We aren't quite that far yet."

"But you need to think about things like that..."

He sighed. "I know, Mom, but this is something you're going to have to trust me on. Let me and T'Pol worry about the grandkids, okay?"

Trip reveled in his new understanding of what he meant to T'Pol. He'd been so unsure before. There had been a part of him before that had held himself back, not wanting to have his heart trampled on. Now he didn't have to anymore.

Susan pulled away from him. "I think you're making a mistake, Honey. I like T'Pol and all, but Vulcans don't have emotions like we do." She looked at Trip and saw that he wasn't listening to her. She couldn't bear to see her child go through all of this, only to be heartbroken in the end. "Promise me you'll think about this..."

"Sure, Mom. I promise." Trip kissed her on the head, still glowing from his afternoon with T'Pol, and left the kitchen to slump down onto the couch and watch some TV.

Susan sighed and went back to chopping vegetables, knowing her son hadn't heard a word she'd said.

* * *

To be continued...


End file.
